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A Rosh Hashana message

"I Am A Strange Loop" is a book written by the notable physicist, Doug Hofstadter. Because his first wife died at an early age and his children were only 2 and 5, he worried about what they would remember of their mommy. After much reading,reasoning and philosophizing, Hofstadter realized that we need not worry what happens to us after death. What we do in our lifetimes influences each person we have a relationship with. Our souls become, at once, connected to theirs. When one soul touches another soul, that 1st soul doesn't die. It is housed in the many brains that it enters. We get in each others heads and stay there. So many times I worry that if I pass on early what will my grandchildren remember of me? Upon hearing this explanation tonight at Rosh Hashanah services by my rabbi, Arnie Rachlis, I was comforted by the reasoning that my soul, as well as others', will continue to shape the thoughts and ways of my children and grandchildren. It is not important whether my soul goes to heaven; but it is important to me that part of me will reside and influence the thinking of those who follow me. And so it is important that what we do and make of our lives, will not be forgotten by our loved ones. Shana tova.

Billo, maybe you're not such a pillo

Today I heard that Bill O'Reilly , according to the Huffington Post, "supports the creation of a government managed health care plan if it provides working Americans with an affordable option to other than private insurance plans." What! Bill O'Reilly said this on Fox News?

If only he had said this a few weeks ago he would have been spared the lunger I spewed last Friday in front of his property in West Hampton Beach. Oops. I mean moist manna from heaven!

The case of the maiden name saga

Last night I decided, after 4 weeks of deliberation, that I was going to fly up next weekend to be part of my 2nd son's 40th birthday celebration. His band was going to perform and how could I miss this important event? It was only about $30 or $40 more to fly than to take that nasty 6 1/2 hour trip by car.

So this time (see blog: American Airtimes) I was sure I could easily get my tickets 123 and not have to call Southwest for any help. And now that my sister has recently admitted that I'm much faster on the computer than she is, (I spent a few days with her last week and proved my computer proficiency to her)I had the absolute confidence that I could execute the tickets with much facility. And I did. No problema. Got done, paid the ticket and went to my email to see the confirmation etc. Only guess what? The email came addressed to me but with my maiden name on the ticket as the passenger! What was I thinking when I booked these tickets? You know you can't use someone else's boarding pass other than the one that matches up with your driver's license? There's no changing anything on line once the tickets are paid for. I quickly went through all my expired passports and found my very 1st one (when I was 17.) It showed my 1st name, middle name and maiden name. Then I went to my present one which has my 1st name, middle name and married last name. For sure Security would believe how legit this was since my driver's license also has my birth date on it. Well, all I can say is "Oy!" None of this left me feeling too comfortable about the situation at hand. So I called Southwest Airlines and explained the circumstance. (Of course I waited for 20 minutes for someone to pick up at Southwest at 10:00 p.m..) The agent was wonderful, saw that the prices hadn't changed in the last 30 minutes, cancelled my 1st booking, cut and pasted it to the next booking and smartly used my correct name of the last 45 years. Stay tuned for the next airlines saga. Maybe I'll get it right by then.

Throw Norman from the train a bag, 2 bags

This past Saturday, I had the fortune of going with my daughter's in-laws to see a wonderful musical in New York, "In The Heights." The plan was that I would take the LIRR train from my sister's house on the island, switch to another train and exit in Lynbrook. In Lynbrook, all those who were to accompany me would be at the station; I would get off the train and we would chat for 1/2 an hour until the next train to Penn station arrived. Halfway through my journey, I received a cell phone call from a member of the extended family saying that instead of getting off the train, I should merely throw my bags off the car and Norman (my daughter's father-in-law, who was not going to the theatre,) would pick up the bags and bring them to his mother's house where this family group was staying. So when Martin, Norman's brother asked me what car I was in, I had no idea. I didn't get the phone call before I switched trains; it never occured to me to count the car I was in. I said I was about 3 cars from the last one. The train stopped. I saw the entire family, including Norman, all the way at the end of the train station. I took my bags to the door, literally threw them onto the platform and saw Norman running up to get my bags. The others entered the last car and we didn't connect with each other, hugs, kisses and the like, until the next stop when we were able to open the God forsaken heavy car doors. If this doesn't seem funny to you, the reader, you're gonna have to trust me on this one.We were all absolutely hysterical laughing. I mean to see Norman, who has now grown a gray haired pony tail since the last time I saw him, running down the platform was a sight I will never forget. I'm surprised the cops didn't go after him as he was picking up these two bags from seemingly out of nowhere and carrying them to his car. A memorable event, indeed.

El Pollo Poco II

Did you all see the "El Pollo Poco" advertisement tonight where the Latino sings his song and shows you all the food you can get on the dollar menu? The loco salad was not only filled to the top, but it was spilling over. What a joke!

Standing on the shoulders of my sister

Last night when I was talking to my sister we were joking around about having massages/facials when I go to N.Y. in two weeks. (We won't do it, but we were just talking about it.) So my sister said that every time she goes for a massage, the masseuse tells her to relax her body and relax her shoulders. She returns with,"But I am relaxed." The masseuse tells her she's not relaxed enough. Which is one of the reasons I never have massages, because I can't stand some bitty telling me to relax. My first date told me to relax, my friends tell me to relax, my co-workers have always told me to relax etc. Hey everyone, this is it. I don't get any more relaxed than how you see me. My state of being is perpetual fluctuation and that's the way it is. It's inherited! So I added to my sister's comments that every time I have a new grandchild and one of my kids takes a picture of me holding the new baby, my shoulders are never "at ease." They're always up by my ears. It's pretty funny to see in pictures. You'd think that after giving birth to 3 kids and having 4 grandchildren, that my shoulders wouldn't be standing at attention anymore.